


Poncho

by Tobinka



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Consensual Rape, Dubious Consent, Game Spoilers, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobinka/pseuds/Tobinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avallac'h's strange clothing raises questions among his friends. He lefts them unanswered but he remembers what did he use the poncho for in the first place. His fellow Aen Elle remember too. <br/>Alternative title: The King's Pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poncho

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nagat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagat/gifts).



> Please note: English is my second language and thus there may be a lot of grammatical mistakes. Please message me should you find any.   
> Thank you. 
> 
> Story contains major spoilers for the story. Consider yourself warned. 
> 
> This is for Nagat. She loves wearing ponchos.

"Why do you wear that blanket?" Ciri asked, out of nowhere. It needs to be told that this time of the year was rather warm and Avallac'h just kept wearing several layers of blue embroidered blanket.

"It's a poncho." He replied.

"No, it's blanket." She insisted.

"Alright. A blanket. Well...why do you wear a corset and heeled boots?"

"I asked first."

"I asked second, does it matter?" He gave her a wicked look and she laughed.

"I suppose I like the way it looks. The corset I mean. And it's comfortable." Ciri had told him and added some firewood to the dying fire. Golden and white flames quickly devoured the dry wood.

"See? You just answered that question yourself." He smiled and watched the fire as it slowly came back to life.

"Avallac'h, don't tell me _you_ care for fashion." Ciri laughed.

"That I do. Elven pride and honor. Remember? Besides, it's very comfortable to sleep in and since we are on the run, I can't bother with putting on my clothes if we are attacked."

Then, suddenly, a memory. The one that should have died many centuries back. Memory of the blanket he wears and claims to be a poncho or even mage robes. A memory he thought was no longer in him, or at least wasn’t supposed to be.

"And why are you blushing?" Ciri pointed out as mage's face turned pink.

"I am not." He frowned and it made him look very funny.

Then, the tiniest details of this long lost memory started coming back and he felt like he's living them again. The memory brought some of his parts back into lifw and he felt ashamed of himself.

He looked away for a moment, and if you understood elves and elven features, you would be able to see a sadness in his eyes. Instead, Ciri turned the conversation elsewhere and asked him about the ruins they were staying at.

 

Not long after she fell asleep, Avallac'h went to the forest only to remove the poncho in one movement, then laid down and touched his aching cock. He bit his left hand as he stroked himself and tried to be as quiet as possible while reliving those long lost memories. Oh how terribly he missed that. Fisting himself furiously, he remembered the times he spent in the king’s bed, or in the gardens, where his clothes came in handy. He came hard, spilling the sticky semen all over his conveniently designed clothes and his stomach.

In the morning he covered the big, purple bruise on his hand with magic and was thankful for having such a skill. He was unsure of what he would tell Ciri and how would he explain suspicious bite-mark. They left the ruins as quickly and quiet as possible, both of them sensing unusual cold of the Wild Hunt.

 

Avallac'h was asked the same question again, few weeks later, in a land killed by a frost, while hiding in a cellar of an old lighthouse with Geralt of Rivia. They were waiting for another portal to appear on their way to Tir Ná Lia.

"Cold hell." The witcher muttered. "I envy you those blankets you wear. Though it's unusual choice of clothes."

"It's not a blanket. It's poncho."

"No, it's a blanket." Geralt gave him a look and Avallac'h resigned.

"It's practical. If you spend half of your life running, you learn to dress smart." The elf told him.

And here was the memory, again. He nearly forgot it while he was turned to that ugly being Uma. He will thank Geralt later. The images of the old king Auberon flashed in front of his eyes. No, he stopped himself from thinking, now is not the time.  

"Are you sure that's all?" Geralt stared at him.

"Why would be there anything else about my clothes?" His tone was slightly annoyed.

"I don't know, you just look like you're not telling the whole truth."

"Did Zirael made you ask me that?"

"What do you mean?" Geralt look honestly confused and Avallac'h came to conclusion that the young woman really had nothing to do with current conversation but he couldn't help it and felt personally attacked.

"Forget it. It's nothing." He answered, looking into the heart of the fire but still feeling Geralt's piercing eyes on him.

Before Geralt could say anything else, the portal finally opened.

"Time to go." He said and with magic killed the fire that had kept them warm. As they walked through the glowing portal, even the fire up in the lighthouse, which Avallac’h set to help the witcher find a way, surrendered to the all present frost and died.

 

This time, they arrived into an elven city. Geralt wasn’t sure if this was Tir ná Lia or not and Avallac'h was nowhere to be found, again. At least this time they weren’t in a frozen hell. It was a warm evening and the city smelled of flowers and honey and fresh grass. It reminded the witcher of Toussaint where the instead of honey smelled the wine. He remembered his search for Ciri and wave of nostalgia washed over him.  

Geralt spent the better half on the night looking for the elf. It wasn’t easy, the city was full of elves, but at least he learned that he indeed is in the infamous Tir ná Lia. One woman told him about the way to the palace above the city, where he expected to find Avallac’h and Eredin’s lieutenant named Ge’els.

The Castle of Awakanening laid above the city with a glowing grace. To find a path in wasn’t difficult, but it was riddled with Eredin’s warriors. Geralt had to stay in shadows as he slowly crept through the palace. Finally, he found the elves on one of the upper balconies, and not everything was as it is should be.

For instance, Avallac’h was lying on his blankets, on the ground, and the other elf – Ge’els, Geralt presumed - was violently pounding into him. There was unexpected aggression in this act of copulation, Avallac’h was grasping at Ge’els’s shoulders, and his eyes tight shut, whilst the second man was biting on his neck.

“You scum. Filthy, street rat” Ge’els muttered. “Eredin will never forget it. Auberon was his, not yours.”

Avallac’h wasn’t able or maybe didn’t want to respond. He only let out deep moans and with his legs he urged the other man to speed up. Or maybe to slow down. Geralt couldn’t tell. He pulled out his sword.

“Avallac’h!” He shouted. “Get of him, you bastard!”

Both men froze in their act. They both looked at furiously looking witcher who stood there, his sword and teeth out and rage in his eyes. As they turned to him, Geralt could see a dark bruise forming under Avallac’h left eye. And as quickly as possible, Ge’els got up and fixed his robes – robes he didn’t even bother to remove, while Avallac’h was naked on the floor, with only his tattoos and suspicious bruises.

Geralt remained silent, only watched as the elven mage got up and put the blanket on. Then, with magic, he hid the black eye.

“Care to explain?” The witcher finally broke the silence, sword still out and ready to attack.

“There is nothing to tell, Gwynbleidd. For I think we can agree this matter is between us and us alone.” Ge’els told him.

“Truly there isn’t. But now, that we all are here, I believe we can discuss why are we here?” Avallac’h’s voice is unusually calm, given the state he was in few moments ago.

“Crevan on point, as always. Also…care for a drink?” Ge’els has a stone-like expression but his eyes betray him and his is certainly amused but this whole situation.

“Got any vodka?” Geralt asked, needing something strong to calm his head.

Ge’els only shook his head.

“Oh yeah. I keep forgetting you don’t touch that filth, disgraceful as it is.” Geralt’s tone annoyed and bitter.

“Hmm… I must admit, you appearing here, it is quite the surprise, witcher.” Ge’els still amused, the proud elf he is.

“Incidentally, interesting choice of allies. Do you think Avallac’h is honest with you? Just curious…” Ge’els’s words are more like a taunt than anything else.

“No. But honesty is not a facet of your species. So quit spewing bile, won’t gain you anything.” Geralt knows what the elf is up to but doesn’t play along.

“I detect shadow of impatience in your face, it seems. So, what brings you here?” Seeing that the witcher won’t play along, Ge’els ignores the insult.

Avallac’h explains the reason that dragged them across multiple worlds. Ge’els is convinced enough to join them, at least for the time before Avallac’h would take them into the dream and show him the truth about Eredin. _He looks like a decent man,_ Geralt thinks but pushing the image he witnessed away is hard.

“Are you alright, sage?” Geralt asks before they leave for Aen Seidhe realm.

“I…yes, I am well. Though I would appreciate if you didn’t mention this. To anyone.” Avallac’h reassures him. Geralt only gives him a look that doesn’t say anything.

 

After they show the elven general the vision, he tell them how to kill Eredin. Ge’els, being his right hand man, knows of his weaknesses and the ways the king fights. He also tells them about the Sunstone, the only way to summon the Wild Hunt. When he reassures them that no help will come from his side, his expression is determined and fierce.

“A new portal shall open soon. I will stabilize it for your safe return. Come with me.” Avallac’h then tells him and the elves leave. Before the doors close, the sage looks Geralt into his cat eyes. He receives knowing look.

“I could take him there. To Tir Ná Lía. The portal can take hours to appear.” Ciri said few moments after they left.

“We better leave them alone. I believe they have something to discuss.” Geralt answers, fully aware of what is going to happen between the two.

Ciri only shrugs and lets it go. It truly takes several hours before they see the elven mage again. He looks as normal as possible, but his eyes shine brighter than before. Neither of the witchers notices that, though.

“I believe we let of Ge’els too easy.” Ciri voices her concern.

“You can never be too careful.” Geralt nods at Avallac’h.

“Agreed. Yet I do believe Ge’els will keep his word, withhold support from Eredin.” The mage tells them.

“Seems to me you have a plan. Care to share with us?” Ciri smiles at the progression.

Avallac’h shares his plan. They want to lead Eredin into a trap, gather support of all Skellige’s warriors and berserkers. Geralt is skeptical, but Avallac’h looks like he knows what he’s doing and having no other choice he agrees.

At the sunlight, the very next day, they sail for the Skellige.

 

 

Avallac’h spend most of his time on the ship with Triss, while Geralt and Ciri were unstoppably looking for the Sunstone. In the end, the help comes from an unexpected source – Phillipa Eilhart herself. Geralt was a little negative towards her, because he knew what kind of a bitch this witch was, but accepted her help. In the end the search only took few days instead of months. Once everything was ready, they sailed for Undvik.

“Care to explain your plan?” Geralt asked, once they sat a camp at the beach. In the tent were group of witches, Ciri and Avallac’h himself.

“It is simple…which doesn’t mean it will be simple to execute.” Avalla’ch starts, “I shall activate the Sunstone. If Caranthir answers the call, the Naglfar should appear in the bay shortly afterwards.

The Lodge must then prevent the ship from returning to the world of Aen Elle, while the imperial fleet blocks its escape by sea. Then we board it with the help of Duke var Attre’s regiment.”

“Wow…Emhyr’s being generous with his resources.” Geralt knew that the emperor had little men to spare as he still fought the war with Temeria and other countries.

“He’s halted his entire Skellige campaign to help us.” Fringilla Vigo comments on his remark.

“Not doing it just to be nice, believe me.” Geralt simply replied.

“He’s doing it for the same reason we all are,” Yennefer interrupted, “He’s doing it for Ciri.”

Speaking of Ciri, Avallac’h joins the debate again, clearly stating that Ciri must not join the fight. He doesn’t forget to say how dangerous it is several times. Geralt eyes him. So far, Ciri was always safe and alright, and not sexually attacked like the mage was. He almost says that. Almost.

Ciri naturally disagrees, she wants to fight and doesn’t like the idea of staying behind. Of course she remembers of what happened at Kaer Morhen, but excluding her from the battle? No, she would not let them.

Geralt only confirms it. “Telling Ciri she can’t do something is counter-productive. Speaking from experience there…Ultimately she does what she wants.”

Avallac’h looks worried, but doesn’t object. It would have no use, and he knows it.

As soon as they activate the Sunstone, the Naglfar appears, freezing the land and waters around it. But the Wild Hunt was expecting them. The ship is protected by an ice shield and needs to be destroyed.

“The Ice…It’s a spell. We must find the mage who cast it, destroy his staff.” Avallac’h says, as he and Ciri are watching the mighty galley slowly approach.

“I’ll not stop with his staff.” Ciri’s tone is cruel, just like her eyes. Avallac’h just nods. He knows who the mage is. He doesn’t want to see his old friend dead.

He knows it will take time before Ciri reaches him. Avallac’h knows where Caranthir is and as soon as she leaves, he runs across the frozen water, as fast as he can.

The sage finds the general just where he was supposed to be, in the icy arena right next to the Naglfar.

“You. How dare you to show up here.” Caranthir’s voice is full of the cold and hate. He was Avallac’h’s friend once, many years back. They fought side by side, slept and traveled together, even before Lara Dorren was born. But Eredin and time changed all of this, and once friends were now on the different sides of the conflict.

“Caranthir.” Avallac’h, without fear, stands before the armed wizard.

“Don’t you speak my name, you traitor.” Caranthir points his staff towards the sage. They both are aware of each other’s power and so neither of them attacks.

“I merely saved an innocent woman from your dirty claws. I am no traitor, unlike Eredin.” The sage tries to look into his eyes, but the helmet protects him from the sharp eyes.

“You came here, after betraying your king and you are brave enough to spit on his name?” He is getting even more furious than before, the energy nearly pouring from him.

“Yes, precisely. Eredin killed our king, took his place and poisoned your minds.”

“Don’t play with the fire, Crevan, it may burn you.” Caranthir mutters and in a blink of an eye, he teleports to Avallac’h and grabs him by the neck, choking him.

“Ngh…bas-tard.” Avallac’h manages to say before running out of air.

“Oh, no you don’t. Eredin will be pleased to see you.” He says, the voice even colder than before. Avallac’h realized the resistance is futile and didn’t fight back.

The next moment he knows, they are teleported on the galley’s bridge, where Ereding himself stands, his dog impatiently sitting around him.

“Eredin. I have something for you.” Caranthir laughs and yanks Avallac’h towards him like a doll. The sage lands on his knees, right in front of the king.

“Well well, what have we here.” Eredin laughs and the mask dampens his voice.

Avallac’h looks up at him, but remains silent.

“And you still have that blanket Auberon has gave to you. Pathetic little elf, are we?” Caranthir pours salt into the wound.

“How do you know?” His relationship with the king was supposed to be a secret. Auberon would give him the blanket to carry around all time so anytime they were in need, they wouldn’t have to fuck on the cold ground.

“Are you really that stupid? Everyone knew. Every Aen Elle at the castle knew you were the king’s whore.” Eredin told him, tone full of disgust.

“Maybe you should please your new king as well.” Caranthir grabbed him by the scarf and yanked him up, nearly breaking his neck.

“See? Caranthir here has some better ideas, not like Ge’els who realized he’s better off without me. I wonder, is that your work as well?” Eredin grabbed Avallac’h by the chin and forced him to look into the king’s ice white eyes, which shone through the helmet.

Following that, the general removed Avallac’h clothing in single movement, just as he witnessed Auberon doing it so many times. Before the sage knew it, his bare ass was up in the air and hard erection was pressing against his entrance.

“Keep still, Crevan. We might let you keep that blanket.” Eredin laughed and followed his general’s movements, taking his own cock out.

At first, Avallac’h thought he would pass out from the burning pain in his ass, but to his own surprise, he didn’t. Caranthir’s cock was tearing him apart, but at the same time, the blighted thing was hitting that spot inside his body that made him feel so good, and soon his body would react.

As soon as he opened his mouth to release a moan, Eredin stuffed his cock inside. The king fucked his mouth even harder than Caranthir his ass, and the lack of air and pain in his throat, caused him to gag and his whole body trembled.

“You truly are a little whore. I understand what Auberon saw in you. Taking cock like that.” Caranthir laughed behind him and dug his gloved hand into Avallac’h’s butt cheek, drawing out little drops of blood.

Avallac’h, having cock in his mouth, couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even move under the weight of the armed man. Eredin was pulling his hair, making his head respond to his thrusts, and making him gag more. The sage already gave up on trying to swallow, so the saliva just dripped from his mouth, together with his tears, on the blanket.

He was also sure he felt blood slowly running down his violated tight. When he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Caranthir grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up, still pounding into him. Good thing was that he could breathe but his throat was sore and instead of moans he only released shrieks.

Being lifted in the air like that, Eredin grabbed his thighs and yanked them open, He paid no attention to Avallac’h’s own erection, he only stroked himself few times and coated his dick with more of the sage’s saliva and his own pre-cum. Then, he began to press against his already stuffed asshole.

Avallac’h’s sore throat wouldn’t let him scream but if he could, he would scream so hard, they would hear him even back at the camp. What seemed impossible soon became reality. Eredin didn’t waste any second and with all force, he pushed himself into the sage’s ass, spreading it impossibly, now literally tearing it apart. Just as he was fully inside, blood flow, staining Caranthir’s armor and the blanket.

As the men began to move, both at the same time, Avallac’h’s head started to spin from the pain, blood loss and, conveniently, pleasure. Neither of the men had removed their helmets and he was thankful he didn’t have to look into their eyes, though he certainly felt their gaze. Clawed gloves bit into his pale skin, leaving dark red marks and dark bruises.

The cold air around them soon turned warm, nearly melting the ice on the ebony wood. On Avallac’h’s skin it felt like a frozen kiss and it soothed the pain. The sage’s only thought was of Auberon. He clung to that memories like his life would depend on them. His beautiful king, thing and elegant, with an ivory skin and voice like honey when they fucked, he was remembering all those details, only to stay sane.

It didn’t stop him from coming. He spilt his semen over his own stomach and Eredin’s armor. It felt like hours, as he kept coming, hard, and white and sticky.

Eredin only laughed and added more energy to his torturing pace and it didn’t take long before he came inside of the Sage’s body. Without any warning, he slid out, letting his general to finish. Caranthir took extra pleasure in defiling Avallac’h’s body, and as he furiously kept fucking him and adding more bruises with metallic gloves.

Just before he came, he pushed the sage back on the ground, on the cold, blood and saliva soaked blanket. He pulled out, and spilled over Crevan’s back in long, hot strings of white cum.

But it wasn’t enough for the cruel mage. As the sage knelt on the blanket, blood and semen pouring from his torn ass, face swollen and wet with tears, Caranthir laughed and just as he stood there, he emptied his bladder on the hurting elf. Hot, golden piss washed away the semen and little of the blood, and left sharp, unpleasant smell.

“Caranthir. Was that really necessary?” Eredin was clearly amused.

The Wild Hunt’s mage only laughed.

“It appears Zirael has fought her way through your men. If you excuse me…” Caranthir excused himself, and Eredin bowed his head in agreement. The next moment, with a white flash, the man disappeared.

Avallac’h still knelt on the blanket, didn’t move or say anything. It didn’t take long before the liquids on him began to freeze, turning his skin blue.

“Get up.” Eredin muttered. “Get out of my sigh.”

And Avallac’h did. He put on the wet, smelling blanket and jumped of the galley’s bridge.

Just as he did, Crach an Craite appeared on the ship, axe and clothes covered in blood of Eredin’s men and challenged him. Killing him was easy, his blood still boiling from the orgasm. Eredin killed him with no effort. Geralt of Rivia, who showed up just after Crach fell down dead, however, was an honorable opponent.

The witcher fought with fury he never encountered in any of his previous enemies. He realized he won’t be as easy to kill as the Skellige warrior was.

Drained of all his power and energy, he still refused to submit, and the witcher’s silver blade cut through his armor like a hot knife through butter. Despite the injuries, Eredin kept fighting, but the blood loss has made his head light and he failed to parry Geralt’s attack, losing his left eye. Slowed down, in pain and blind, he still stood up, facing his death.

The blade soon finished its job and The King of the Wild Hunt fell to the ground.

“You said you had something to tell me.” The witcher asked him.

“Avallac’h has tricked us both.” Blood poured from Eredin’s wounds as he spoke. “He set us against each other…and he’smade off with Cirilla.”

“I don’t believe you.” Geralt told him, looking into his tired, white eye. These were the last words Eredin heard. He relaxed his body and let the Death embrace him. It felt unfamiliar but welcomed.

They had barely made it to the Tedd Deiredah, as the earthquake followed them. When they reached the tower, they found it protected by a barrier. Yennefer was only strong enough to get Geralt through and so she did.

The witcher found Avallac’h in the center of the Tower, summoning a huge spell. And Ciri stood there with him, proud and determined.

“Geralt…So unfortunate. I’d hoped you wouldn’t have to witness this.” Avallac’h spoke in a low voice, his skin was pale from the cold and his clothes still wet.

“Shut up. I’ve heard enough of your bullshit. Draw your weapon, let’s get this over with.” Geralt drew his silver sword and this time, he pointed it at the elven mage.

But Avallac’h didn’t want to fight. He was exhausted, cold and in pain, so he threw away his blade. Geralt is ready to attack, angry and furious, but Ciri stops him.

“He speaks the truth. I asked him to help me open the tower because I aim to enter it.” She says, trying to calm the witcher down.

“Why would you do that?” Geralt is scared, he knows what may await in the tower and he doesn’t want to lose his daughter, not again.

“I need to stop the White Frost.” Ciri explains.

Geralt tries to stop her, he really does, but she enters anyway. Gold and white flashes surround the tower, and in them, it disappears.

When he wakes up, he is alone on a deserted island. It takes him an hour long journey before he reaches the coast, and he finds Yennefer there, awaiting his return. He tells her of what happened, but before they fully accept what has happened, Ciri appears in a green light, wet, tired but alive.

“So Avallac’h didn’t betray us, in the end.” Geralt voiced his thoughts over a beer in one of the Skellige’s taverns, few days later.

“No. But he didn’t tell us everything, not even there at the Tedd Deiredah.” Ciri nods and eats another mouthful of stew.

“That he didn’t.” Geralt knew some of his secrets, but he could only imagine what else the mage was hiding.

“I wonder where he is now.” Yennefer looked into her glass of wine, and then drank in with one breath.

 

Many, many miles away, in a world of Aen Saevherne, Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha stood in front of a single, white marble grave and without shedding a single tear, he placed a bouquet of white lilies on the stone and walked away, into oblivion from which he has appeared.

 


End file.
